


The Stars That Drip With Honey

by MythicPolaroid



Category: 18th Century CE RPF, American Revolution RPF, Hamilton - Miranda, Historical RPF, Turn (TV 2014)
Genre: Falling In Love, George just wants to sleep, Happy Ending, Idiots in Love, Jefferson doesn’t play that much of a part, Lafayette is a brat, M/M, Neither does Hamilton, SELF-INDULGING, Small Project, The original characters are irrelevant but they’ll be mentioned, small story
Language: English
Status: In-Progress
Published: 2020-02-22
Updated: 2020-03-11
Packaged: 2021-02-28 05:47:06
Rating: Teen And Up Audiences
Warnings: Creator Chose Not To Use Archive Warnings
Chapters: 2
Words: 3,523
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/22838809
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/MythicPolaroid/pseuds/MythicPolaroid
Summary: The story of Lafayette and George falling in love helplessly, the cold of their winter bringing them together.
Relationships: Gilbert du Motier Marquis de Lafayette/George Washington
Comments: 5
Kudos: 20





	1. Chapter 1

**Author's Note:**

> Okay! This is my first fanfic on this website so I hope everyone likes it! Don’t be scared to leave suggestions or comments and thank you so much for reading!

The night sky was soft and dark, the moon gracing its light upon the snow-veiled ground. The small ice crystals continued to drift from the sky, falling upon a small camp. There were five or six tents, a majority of them rather small. There was one big tent, presumably meant for the most elite in the camp. In the middle of all the tents was a shallow fire pit that glowed a soft orange across the white snow, the fire slowly dying.  
As soldiers walked in the direction of their tents to retire, the snow beneath their boots crunched. Though it was late and it was time to go to bed, one of the soldiers was still happily running around. He stomped around in the freeze, the crushing noise being obnoxiously loud to his continental companions.  
The boy was young. Definitely not the youngest in the war, but quite young. The boy was 19 years old, coming from a long line of aristocracy all the way in France. He joined the cause on his own accord, ready to stand by the army at all costs. Gilbert du Motier, Marquis de Lafayette. That wasn’t his full name, but it was part of it. He called himself Lafayette; he’d always preferred that over Gilbert. That name was a curse according to him. Gilbert. A stupid name.  
Lafayette’s hair was a beautiful red that glowed a luminous strawberry red in the early morning sunlight. It was always tied back in a messy ponytail with a small white bow, the hair draping over his shoulder. He knew the wigs were customary, but he preferred to not wear it. He had gorgeous hazel eyes, clear as a spring morning and a summer afternoon all at the same time. And his freckles. His freckles were like the kisses of angels and fairies, sprinkled across his cheeks, shoulders, chest, knees, even the boy’s neck and thighs. He had feminine features; a slender body, a delicately formed chin and mouth, dainty feet, and his almost Rococo style. His lips were a gentle pink and plump, his cheeks were usually dusted pink both naturally and with a powder rouge. Daily, he’d paint a black heart on the apple of his cheeks to fit in with the Rococo theme, as the style was rather popular in France.  
As he leapt around in the snow, a familiar voice made its presence behind him, “Ahem,” the man cleared his throat, making the 19 year old jolt in surprise, “Lafayette, my boy, it’s late. You might catch cold if you stay out too long. Come to bed.”  
“Quoi? But I want to play in the snow longer!” Lafayette bubbled, picking the snow up and playing with it in his hands. He dropped the snow and watched it plop down, scattering into pieces and seemingly disappearing.  
“It wasn’t an offer, boy. Come now,” Washington huffed, watching the redhead play with even more snow.  
As Washington waited he tapped his foot, his gaze off to the tents, not paying enough attention to the young boy. As soon as he was about to turn to him again, a cold impact landed against his stomach, making him jolt and snap his attention to Lafayette. The boy was giggling at his general, another snowball already in his hands.  
The older man scowled at the Lafayette as he chortled, dropping the snowball accidentally. He doubled over in a fit of giggles and laughter, gripping his knees. “You,” he gasped for air and laughed again, “should have seen the look on your face! You were so surprised!”  
Washington glowered and leaned down, picking up snow. He packed it into a ball, throwing it at the Frenchman’s head. The contact made a soft thud against his head, making his small form stumble and his delicate face land in the bitter snow.  
Despite being face first in the snow, Lafayette giggled and popped his head back up. He stood and smiled at Washington, his eyelashes adorned with a few snowflakes that gleamed like glitter or diamonds. He enjoyed the cold much more than Washington did. “See, mon general? It’s fun to play in the snow!” he beamed, scampering up to Washington’s side.  
“It’s not going to be fun when I throw you in the tub,” Washington attempted a threat, though Lafayette shrugged it off.  
Lafayette knew he didn’t mean it. He rolled his hazel eyes and twirled off, making his way towards the tent he and Washington shared. Not Lafayette’s choice, of course, Washington insisted on them sharing.  
The general followed behind him, still cringing at the wet mark on his clothing. He wiped his shirt and looked up, watching Lafayette slip into the tent. The boy was nimble and quick on his feet.  
It took about a minute for Washington to arrive at the entrance, the general being extremely slow by this time. It was late and cold; who could blame him? He walked in on Lafayette unbuttoning his shirt, the fabric slipping off. His freckled shoulders and chest were exposed in the cold, making him shiver and hurry to put his nightshirt on. His sleep trousers were already on and his dirty clothes (such as his uniform that he still needed to clean) were rudely strewn across the shared floor, causing the general to frown.  
“My dear boy, please pick those clothes up. You should go wash them before you retire for the night,” Washington instructed, making the freckled boy groan.  
Reluctantly, Lafayette stood and gathered his filthy clothes, pouting at Washington who began to get into sleep wear as well. After he finished dressing himself, he gathered his clothes and stood, walking out to clean his uniform with Lafayette quickly.  
***  
After washing their uniforms, the two hurried back to the tent, the both of them forgetting their boots. They were really freezing. They threw the tent’s flap open and scurried in, Washington less affected by the cold than Lafayette was. They both were whispering in a hushed tone, the both of them going to their separate beds. To be more specific, Lafayette’s basic cot with a quilt and a rag for a pillow and Washington’s slightly more comfortable and bigger cot with three warm blankets and an actual pillow. Lafayette really never minded.  
The two men laid on their cots, the older man’s eyes already closed from exhaustion. Lafayette was staring into space, not wanting to submit to his own fatigue. The night air was cold and pierced through his quilt, with only shivers and chills making their way up and down his spine. He was strong (though his body type may argue) and could easily sleep through the cold. Sure, he always preferred the cold in the day time, but he loved the snow when he was laying in bed and watching it drift down softly through his frosted window. The 19 year old had mixed opinions on everything. Who could blame him?  
As Lafayette drifted to sleep, he let his eyes close. He rested his head on the poor excuse for a pillow, his cheeks rosy with the frigid nip of the air. His nightclothes were thin and flowy; not entirely helpful for the temperature at hand. He was staring out at the stars happily, the snow glowing under the moon. As he gazed to the heavens above, he hummed an almost silent prayer to himself about having his soul find the early dawn the next day. He always did that. He hummed and drifted off, the sleep embracing him as he blew his candle out.


	2. The Constellations

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Will Lafayette fight or stand on the sidelines and watch?

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Hey guys! This is the second chapter of this story and I hope you like it! Please ignore any spelling mistakes, there might be a few! I’ll see you in the next chapter!

Lafayette’s eyes cracked open as the sun found its way into the tent, causing a groan to emit from his lips. He didn’t want to get up yet, he wanted to sleep longer. As he reluctantly stood up, he cast a glance at Washington’s cot. The man was still asleep, his large chest rising and falling peacefully. A smile graced the boy’s lips as he watched innocently, unable to tear away his gaze. He knew that he came to America to fight for freedom, but having such a man on the team was extremely good luck on his end. He watched George shift to get comfortable in his sleeping position and giggled as he dropped a blanket accidentally.  
The twinkly snicker made Washington stir, his gentle eyes opening to look at the noisemaker. He stared at Lafayette, an unamused expression chiseled into his features, “Good morning to you as well, Lafayette.”  
“I apologize, mon general. I could not help but laugh,” Lafayette spoke quickly, trying not to giggle harder at Washington’s confused appearance.  
The general threw the blankets back and stood, stretching his back and grunting at the pain. He stumbled forward to grab his clothes to get ready, knowing he was already behind on the day. Lafayette sat on his cot happily dressed and ready, his hair pulled back into another bad ponytail. He had his boots on as he waited for Washington to get dressed, despite knowing he could go alone.  
“You plan on waiting there?” the general’s voice peaked, catching the redhead’s attention. He wasn’t really listening; he was watching him dress.  
“I like going with you better than going by myself,” Lafayette explained and turned his head as Washington dropped his trousers.  
“You’re like a child,” the older man teased as he pulled on his clothing, making the boy flush from the comment, “a child that likes to play with snow.”  
Instead of a snappy comeback, the boy flashed a small grin as he stood up and hastily speed by his side. Lafayette let his deft fingers graze across the older man's hand as he skipped along, unable to wait for him any longer. "You should hurry along, mon general. You might be late and we can't have that," he giggled and disappeared from the tent, his boots crunching in the fresh-fallen snow.  
Washington left the tent soon after, his hands held behind his back. He stood with dignity and pride, his form moving slowly to distract himself from the surrounding shouts and calls. He just needed to clear his head, is all. He just needed a break.  
Lafayette hummed as he relaxed in the thicket of trees, his back leaned against an oak trunk. He wouldn't admit it, but he was starting to grow restless while waiting for a battle. He wanted to feel the adrenaline pump in his veins as he brought the fight to the damned Hessians and British troops. He longed for bloodshed and the ringing of muskets in his sensitive ears. He ached to be the one liberating the colonies, the one to be praised by General Washington himself. As he thought of war in gruesome detail, he heard a familiar voice. He peeked from behind the trees, his heartbeat quickening in his chest. There he was. The general that possessed the praise that the boy coveted for. The general that the young adult had a small obsession with. All the boy's love and care was gravitated and directed toward the man, albeit obviously. The scene was enough to make Lafayette cough up his heart and serve it to the man. The pink light of dawn was gracefully cast upon the man, highlighting his form in a calming aura of melon. His face was gentle yet stern; something Lafayette could gaze at for days on end. His eyes. The way his eyes reflected the clouds was soothing and reassuring, giving Washington such a pleasing ambience. To the redhead, at least.  
Washington basked in the early light, unaware of the pair of amber eyes locked onto him from behind the trees. He never had time to just stand and stare at the sky, but today he decided that he deserved it. Which he did, of course. Running an army was hard work. As he stared at the sky, his eyes fell upon a head of unruly red hair from behind the trees. It seemed that Washington had a secret admirer. He didn't mind. He decided to tease the boy, pretending not to notice. He walked forward with his chest puffed out, making Lafayette flutter. Washington neared the thicket and yawned, deciding to slightly tease the aristocrat further. He turned his head and locked eyes with Lafayette, smiling as he spoke, "What are you doing back here, boy? I think you'd be able to stare at me much better from over there," he pointed to an empty space in the camp, one that was wide open.  
Lafayette mumbled a fast-paced apology, trying to duck away from him as fast as he could. He was stopped by Washington grabbing his wrist, a polite smile on his face. He pulled the boy back, obviously wishing to speak to him.  
"Have no fear, my boy, you're not in trouble. I'll just take a second of your time," Lafayette stood at attention, his doe eyes holding contact with Washington's. "We have another meeting today, and I hope that you'll attend. We will be discussing strategies and such and it will be better than having you left in the dark. The meeting is at 8 o'clock sharp, and I'd prefer you to not be late as to not miss any valuable information."  
Lafayette looked eager at this information, responding a mere second after the general finished his sentence, "I'd be honored to attend, Monsieur Washington. Now, I believe I should ready myself."  
Washington nodded, still smiling but not bothering to move.  
"I'll need my hand back to leave, monsieur."  
Washington let go and cleared his throat in embarrassment, dismissing him under his breath. Lafayette hurriedly shuffled away, his head down in shame of being caught and teased by the man he craved. He scorned himself and went to mentally prepare himself for the moment he'd be asked to fight. He was going to be able to go into war and fight for Washington and gain his rightful praise. He was sure that he wasn't quite prepared for that, yet.   
***  
It was 7:45, almost time for the meeting. Lafayette began to ready himself, reapplying his blush and the little black heart on his cheek. His freckles were prominent under the bright pink hue, one of his favorite features. He fixed his coat and buttoned it properly, redoing his ponytail. He hummed and left the tent, wringing his hands nervously. He would never admit to it, but he was fearful of going into the meeting. He felt as if he wouldn't belong, being an outcast amongst the important men in the camp. Amongst the people who've fought in the war. He hadn't. Was he important in the war for anything more than his money? What if they were just using him? What if when the war was over, they'd all laugh at him and send him back home? He would be looked down upon in France, his family would be disgusted with the choices he'd made. They'd disown him in a heartbeat. He'd be alone. All alone. As he stood still in terror and thought about the nightmarish possible outcomes, he heard a voice. A familiar voice. Washington's voice. He snapped out of his trance to see Washington walking towards a tent whilst speaking with a young soldier. It was time for the meeting already? He hurried after Washington, making sure to trail behind him. He couldn't seem to breathe.   
There it was. The dreaded tent. He should definitely not be in a meeting. He should definitely not go in. Even though his guts were screaming at him to turn around and not look back, he didn't listen. He walked inside and swallowed thickly, his golden brown eyes downcast. He didn’t belong there. He wasn’t even part of the colonies, why did he come? He should have just stayed back and let the real soldiers take care of it. Despite screaming at himself to turn around, he continued on. He stood at rigid attention, the murmur making his gut clench and twist. He kept his eyes low and off the other men as he tried to sneak a glance of Washington. Just a glimpse to guide him to a chair. His eyes found him and he started off, careful to avoid eye contact and physical contact.   
Lafayette approached Washington and softly tapped his shoulder, speaking in a shy whisper, “May I be permitted to sit here, monsieur?” his bashful tone was not entirely new to Washington. He was shy to speak around the men with higher statuses unless it was Washington, which the general found flattering.  
Washington happily patted the seat by him as an indication for the go ahead. The young boy sat next to him, his golden brown eyes glued to the table. His shoulders were tense and he jolted as the meeting began.  
The boy sat silent, trying to listen in on whatever was happening. He began to doze off, his eyes fluttering closed. He helplessly drifted into a sleeplike state, still trying to listen to the ongoings of the men. Then, one of the men said something. Something that made his eyes open and his focus draw attention. “We should bring the fight to the British,” the man said with a bite in his words, sending shivers down Lafayette’s spine.  
Fight. He liked that idea. He stayed quiet as they spoke amongst themselves, waiting for Washington to weigh his opinion in. The air was thick and silent as he thought, Lafayette’s heart pounding against his ribcage. He could prove that he was worth something to the colonies and their cause. He just needed to fight. He waited patiently, peeking at the general through his eyelashes. Then, his words came out.  
“Yes, I agree. Taking the fight to them seems to be the most worthwhile tactic,” Lafayette quivered with excitement, “but we must think logically. Yes, taking the fight would result most likely in our favor. Even so, that could limit our supplies for when they wish to bring the fight to us. I say we do it, but we do it with caution. Does anyone else have other matters to discuss?” there was silence, “No? Meeting adjourned, then.”  
The men rose to their feet, exiting the tent as swift as they had entered. Lafayette and Washington were the only ones left in the tent, the young boy’s attention locked on the thought of a real battle. He was snapped out of his trance as Washington spoke, calm and quiet, “I don’t know what to do, Lafayette. I’m not sure which to choose. Help me, would you, boy?”  
Lafayette glanced at him, his mouth opening to speak. After a second of thought, his mouth closed again. He was unsure what he was to do. Then, he thought of the exact words. He began to speak nervously, “Well, monsieur, I think we should take the battle to them. We could do it carefully as you suggested, but I have a plan. We could create a diversion and then attack. I could prepare, and wait for you to give the signal, and--”  
He was promptly cut off by Washington’s hand, making him look at him curiously. The general spoke quickly and stern, clearly not playing around, “You? My boy, you will not be fighting in these battles. We need you on the side for support, not the front lines. Do you understand?”  
“Quoi? Monsieur, non, I have to fight in the battle! I’m not some porcelain doll that will shatter at the slightest drop! I will be fine in the fight. I will be useful!” he insisted, his tone raising an octave higher.  
“Lafayette,” Washington warned, “you best watch your tone with me. You are not fighting and I believe I stated that very clearly. We need you in the back, safe. You may not understand now, but--”  
“No!” the boy shouted, unaware of how loud he was being, “I don’t understand! I’m just as prepared as you are, monsieur, I can fight like you! I’m tired of being treated like a child by you! I’m not a child!”  
After the split second of silence to take in the shouting from the usually quiet boy, Washington stood. Lafayette felt his heart pound in his chest as it had earlier, his cheeks pink with anger. Washington’s eyes locked on the boy, as if seeing if he was serious or not. Lafayette was serious about this; apparently enough to not apologize to his commanding officer. His eyes were misted slightly, trying to hold back tears. Washington took in a deep breath and began to speak, “You want to fight? You’re not even properly trained. I need a break. Just...do something else. Please,” he sighed, rubbing his temples and leaving the tent.  
Lafayette sat in the tent, his anger still boiling. He mumbled to himself and hung his head, hiding his face in his hands. He sniffled and let the tears roll off of his freckled cheeks, his chest heaving with each silent sob. He let the emotions take control, shrugging off the possibility of someone being able to hear him. The world felt as if it had just kicked him in the teeth.


End file.
